Tuesday, August 4, 2015


In the floor of my home office
rest seven boxes that contain 
belongings I used to store in 
a work office, till I retired.

Still they sit there, without moving,
contents out of sight, out of mind.
I last looked inside those boxes
coming upon nine years ago.

I may just wait till I die and
am standing at the pearly gates 
where, according to Jay Leno,
St Peter will ask, where’s your stuff? 

I will have a ready reply.

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